Page 12 of Outlaws’ Runaway

All three of them adjust their clothes to make their weapons more easily available. It’s a stark reminder that this might feel like a movie, but it’s not. There are no handy stunt doubles.

“Stay behind us,” Savage orders.

I nod. I’m more than happy to let them go first.

He leads the way up onto Neil’s sagging front porch. Poe carefully looks in one of the front windows. “It’s a fucking hotbox in there.”

They try the door. It’s locked.

“Should we ring the bell?” I ask.

They laugh. Savage shakes his head. “Don’t want to give anyone time to run.”

“My turn?” asks Crank, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. “I'm pretty good at knocking.”

“Like you did at my place?” I'm still a little mad about them breaking down my door, but I can't deny that Crank's tactic was effective.

“Hopefully.”

Crank takes two steps back, squares his shoulder, and charges. I expect that even if it works, it’s going to take a few tries, but if anything he overdoes it. The front door is just about as run down as the rest of the place and blasts apart at the hinges in a shower of splinters and dust as Crank barrels through like a runaway train. Without the door to muffle the noise, the music washes over us in a heavy wave, rattling my teeth in their sockets.

“Delivery!” Crank yells.

Savage uses his arm to guide me behind him as he and Poe follow through the newly made hole. I’m not sure he knows he’s doing it. He just naturally moves to put himself between me and what might be inside. It feels nice, but I stomp down the feeling and remind myself that this is still a job for them. Right now we have the same goal, but as soon as we have the money back, that might all change.

It takes a moment before I realize what Poe meant about the hotbox. There’s a small entry area before we walk into a living room thick with the sweet, pungent scent of weed. It reminds me of sketchy college parties, but dialed up past anything I’ve ever seen before. I cover my face with my arm, trying to breathe shallowly. The last thing I need is to come out of this high as a kite. Distracted, I practically run right into Savage when he stops.

Holy… Immediately I wish I could go back in time and bleach this image from my brain.

Sprawled across the lumpy mattress of a pullout couch is Neil dressed in nothing but boxers, a t-shirt, and a vacant smile. There are bills scattered all over the bed, and a naked womantucked under each arm. In the middle of the room are two women dancing and energetically making out with each other in their underwear. Hardcore porn is playing on a big screen TV—that I bet he bought with my stolen money because the box is still in the corner.

Nowhere is safe to look. There’s skin and sex everywhere, and with only his boxers to cover things up, it’s pretty obvious that our new friend Neil is having the time of his life. The women glance over when we come in, but nobody seems to be worried about why three bikers suddenly showed up. Even with the music thumping loud enough to feel through my feet, I can still hear the wet slaps, grunts and high pitched moans coming from the TV where two insanely hung men are driving into a woman from both ends.

“Who the fuck are you guys?” Neil finally asks, his voice slurred. “Did someone order food? I got—there’s cash, uh…” His hands slap around, looking for bills.

I look away, and then back, because it's all soright there.The guys, on the other hand, don't even seem to notice. What kind of lives do they lead where this isn’t even worth a surprised blink? I’ve never considered myself a prude, but maybe I am and I just didn’t know it. If I make it out of this alive, I’m going to be hearing this in my dreams.

“No, see, it’s the other way around. YOU owe us, fuckwad.” Savage grabs him by a skinny ankle and yanks him right off the sofa bed, like a hotdog shooting out from a bun made of naked women. “You took something of ours, and there better be more than fucking small change left or we're about to have a very unpleasant discussion.”

Neil shrieks, scrambling away as sheer terror floods his system with adrenaline. His eyes focus, not quite sober, but closer. “Don't kill me!”

Poe puts his fingers to his lips and whistles. “Party's over! Anyone till here in five minutes will be assumed to be working with this asshole and treated accordingly.”

The girls jump into action like this is far from the first trick they’ve done that turned sour. One of the dancers looks up as she’s tugging her clothes back into place. “Any chance of getting paid for the rest of the night?”

“Lee! Shut up!” another one whisper-shouts over the music. The other two nod vigorously.

“What? It’s true, and my sister used to party with the Outlaw Sons. She always said they were solid.” Lee cocks her head, thinking. “Unless you want some fun when your business is done. We’re already booked and I bet I wouldn’t even have to fake it with you guys. Your girl’s cute. She can join in.”

I didn’t think I could get more shocked, but it turns out I was wrong.

Crank laughs. “Sorry ladies, we’re a little busy at the moment.” He pulls a stack of bills off the coffee table and starts peeling them off. “Will a grand cover it? I’ll throw in some extra for a cab and the trouble.”

I watch in dismay as he casually gives away a chunk of the money I’ve been working my ass off to not touch.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “What? Should we take them up on it instead? Suppose it’s still your money. Either way, these ladies deserve compensation for their time spent. He's the assholewe're after.” He tilts his head towards where Savage is standing over Neil with his hand on his gun.

“Take them up on—no!” It isn’t until after I answer that I see the humor dancing in Crank’s blue eyes. “Very funny.” I stick out my tongue and wrinkle my nose at him.

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